


The poetry

by jeouzz



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Lives, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeouzz/pseuds/jeouzz
Summary: Every move he made, Yuta tried to record in his memory even the smallest gesture. He wanted to remember everything. With time and date. The color of his apron, the direction of his hair. Absolutely every detail.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	The poetry

_Too used of being wrapped, from the cradle, by the word "beautiful", it was impossible for him to understand the idea of beauty. What was beautiful? Was it the river descending from the mountain of divinities? Was it the birds hovering in the sky? Was it his mother's hair swaying in the flirtation of the wind?_

_"Look at your reflection," they once told him. "That's the beauty." But the exercise of meeting his own refracted figure in the waters was never the answer to that question that haunted him ever since he was conceived._

It was six in the morning and Yuta was awake, watching the sheets rise delicately beside him, propelled by the peaceful breathing of a sleeping man. It was amazing how that simple scene, of the rhythm produced by the flesh and perceived by the experience of the sight, took various possible ways to bring it to words. Each element in the room lining up to give protagonism to the sleeping figure. That was the only thing he couldn't pass up in his mental writing, his protagonist, but the rest of the words were still uncertain.

The other's eyelashes began to flutter. How long had it been? He looked up. The clock on his bedside noted that it was now half past six in the morning. Time goes by too fast.

"Good morning," his lover said, stretching his arms and lining up a dimpled smile. Many dimples? No, just two, but they were enough to fill his entire face. _Beautiful._

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Yuta replied. "Didn't you tell me yesterday that you had classes early in the morning?” His lover's face let his smile go in an instant. And now he could only see on that face an expression of confusion and panic. It was exactly the effect he expected. _Still beautiful._

The man made an attempt to get out of bed. Just a try, because the rush made one of his feet tangle in the sheets. And yes, he was definitely able to get out of the bed. But definitely, also, he was still lying down. On the floor. Yuta laughed.

"It's still early, Jaehyun! It’s half past six, you could even continue sleeping for another half hour.” He couldn't stop laughing. Much less when he saw a messy hair peek out from the edge of the bed.

"And why didn't you tell me earlier? I thought I was late!” Jaehyun frowned and quickly returned to his place on the bed. But he didn’t stay there and dangerously approached Yuta. His smile was back, but this time it was another kind of smile. A playful one. He brought his hands up to Yuta’s sides. Yuta continued to laugh and laugh. Giggles he couldn't control. Tickles. 

_A melody from the forest made him distract himself from his mother's words. An indescriptible sound. He heard the voice of his mother behind him. What did she say? It wasn’t important. In front of him, strings were making a sound that made it impossible for him to think about the importance of those words he left behind. Too empty for his own taste. And instead, the voice of the man he now saw in front of him, who was holding an unknown instrument, filled his ears and his sight completely. He had never seen him before, never heard him before. But he immediately understood that certain answers are only found by solving the mysteries. A mystery with the face of true beauty._

Yuta reached for the towel that hung on the side of the shower. He tried to remove as much water as possible from his hair and body. And before he could get out of the bathroom, he heard the sound of the door being gently knocked.

“Yuta? The breakfast is ready! You should hurry up or you'll be late for work.” He could feel the presence of the other waiting outside for an answer.

"I'm going!" He replied hastily, wrapping the towel around his waist. "I'll be done in five minutes!"

He stumbled out of the bathroom. Although he had woken up at a good time, he lost too much time between tickling, hugging, and languid kisses. They lost track of time and suddenly they were given half past seven in the morning. It wasn’t new to them, if he thought about it carefully. But time definitely passed too fast.

Yuta dressed up quickly. Something casual. His work didn’t warrant any particular formality after all, because he had the advantage of working in a small bookstore that he also owned. It wasn’t necessary to open it so early. However, he liked to have everything ready by the time people started to enter through the doorway. Always ready to help them find the exact texts and words. Unless, of course, they had already been chosen beforehand.

He finished dressing and headed toward the kitchen. It smelled good. Whenever Jaehyun cooked (all the time) a particularly delicious smell filled their home. Dog paws began to climb up his legs, making little jumps. Yuta took his pet in his arms and sat at the kitchen table. Jaehyun smiled.

"Damn, I forgot we had a visitor," he said while placing a portion of rice and soup in front of Yuta. "I only made breakfast for both of us." The food looked as good as it smelled.

Yuta simulated a disgusted sigh and looked down at the dog that was now sitting on his legs. "What a bad service, next time we'll go eat somewhere else," he heard a laugh and he couldn't help but laugh too. "Right, Rapu-chan?" He kissed her _,_ then he brought herdown from his legs and began to eat. It was indeed delicious.

After finishing breakfast and preparing to leave, Jaehyun gave him a small kiss on the door and left first. Actually, the only one at risk of being late was him and not Yuta. But still, each morning, the other made sure to share breakfast with him. _And that was beautiful too._

_“Take it," the man said, handing the instrument to him. "It's yours."_

_His hands received the object, almost on impulse. "But I don't know how to use it," he replied, noting that it was similar to a hunting bow. He felt a chill. It was cold. "Besides, it's not mine."_

_“You’ll know how to use it immediately. It was made for you.”_

_"For me? Made by whom?"_

_"By me."_

_The mysterious man was also someone confusing. "But you don't know me. How can you create something for someone you don't know?” The man smiled. Something strange fluttered inside him._

_“I did know you. We all know you. I just didn't know your figure, but I knew where you were and I knew this lyre would be for you.”_

_A lyre. The bow with more than one string had a name, it was called lyre. And it was his. It was his as soon as his eyes fell on it. Was that the mystery? As soon as he heard the melody coming from the instrument, he knew it. Since before birth, it was his. It was his now, yesterday and tomorrow._

  
  


On the way to the bookstore, he saw people swinging to the beat of the bus. A woman was holding a girl by the hand. The girl, dressed in school clothes, was resting her head on her own outstretched arm. She looked sleepy. In front of him, an old man was sitting. His hand rested on the cane he was holding firmly upright between his spread legs. His eyes looking tired. Teenagers. Lazily speaking behind his back, about love, about their teachers, about incomprehensible grudges. Adulthood and youth gathered in the same space. Just people. Through the transparency of the window. People. Gesturing, walking and talking. Smiling, yawning, muttering. People in front, behind and on his sides. People. Dangerous and loved people. Humanity reclaiming what he never wanted to give them and that he was now paying with pleasure.

_He heard him once and never again. Since then the lyre never touched the hands of anyone other than his own. Very focused on his own progress. In the perfection of form and rhythm and words that fit harmoniously with the sound produced by the lyre. He forgot him. He forgot the hands that in one evening gave him the lyre. Because the lyre was his. He wanted to make it his at all costs. Focus on the elegance of the gesture, on universal emotions, on love and tragedy. No dirt could touch the divinity of his prose and his word. That’s why when, from the sky, he observed the creator of the lyre purposely getting dirty under the touch of the obscene hands of mortality, he lost his mind. And he remembered that the first poet left everything._

  
  


Leaning on the counter in the bookstore, Yuta saw an insecure figure enter the glass door. A good morning gesture. He greeted back and immediately returned to the text in his hands. Poetry: _Sonnets to Orpheus_ , Rilke. But after a few minutes, a sudden noise distracted him. A sound to which he was somewhat accustomed: books falling, one after another, without a precise rhythm. But it was growing. He looked at the place in question and couldn't help but smile from cheek to cheek when he saw the reddened face of the same young man who had entered through the door only a few minutes earlier. He remembered someone else.

"Sorry!" He looked very distressed. More than he should. "I didn't want to, it slipped from my hand and then—"

"No, no. No problem! This always happens,ñ” Yuta interrupted him. He wanted to make sure that negative emotions didn't overly fill the mind of the man in front of him. "I'll take care of it later. What do you need? Are you looking for something special?"

"I was actually looking for this one," he held up the book in his hand, _The wind-up bird chronicle,_ “but when I took it out of its place the other books started to fall. I'm truly sorry."

Yuta just nodded. Maybe he should start sorting the books differently, he thought. He motioned for the man to go to pay at the cash register as soon as he was ready. The young man said that he was, indeed, ready, so he went immediately. His attitude definitely reminded him of someone else, whom he _met_ under similar circumstances. But the impression was different. Too different. He indicated the price and the young man gave him his card. The impression was different, because the first time he saw Jaehyun, something stirred inside him. A kind of omen and a journey to the past at the same time. Contradictory emotions. Happiness, sadness and fear, but more than anything, relief.

The sale was ready.

"Do you want a bag? I have some paper ones.”

"No, thanks." The young man stood still, he seemed to be wondering whether or not to do what he wanted to do next. Yuta knew immediately what his intention was, but preferred to let him express it. "I don't want to be too invasive, sorry. But, if it's possible, could you, maybe, give me your number? Only if you want, I don’t want to pressure you!"

That made Yuta smile. He always smiled, but in a way it was a bitter smile.

"Sorry, look," Yuta stretched out his hand, displaying a gleaming piece standing out on his ring finger. He preferred to cut things as fast as possible. "I’m taken."

"Oh!" The young man’s eyes widened and his face reddened even more, if that was possible. “I'm sorry, I didn't notice! I'm an idiot.” He started to walk to the door in a hurry while laughing nervously. "Thank you very much, goodbye!" Yuta didn’t have time to reply. The young man's silhouette disappeared behind the glass door.

Yuta sighed. It wasn’t something new. But really, as much as he wanted to, there were things he could never reciprocate to people. And he had to live with it.

_The lyre, he began to realize, brought more questions than answers. The same question kept going through his head. He believed he had found it, the beautiful: in perfection, in elegance, in symmetry. That was the answer he chose to live with. But why, if that was the truth, why had the poet dismissed it? Why had he left it in his hands and not clung to it as he himself did? And why, voluntarily, he decided to fall into the world of mortals and have fun with them._

_"Why do you hate humans so much?" He was once asked by the favorite disciple of the creator of the lyre, the one with whom he shared almost the same passion for humans and wine. It was a question that had never crossed his mind, but that made a lot of sense, he understood. He always chose distance. Observing humans from afar, discovering their emotions from what they exteriorized. Humans piqued his interest. So he began to question himself, did he really hate humans? And if he hated them, why did they interest him so much? Maybe he did hate them and that's why they caught his attention. Perhaps that was his job, to hate them, because there was someone else who already loved them too much. He wanted to convince himself that he hated them, he became so convinced that when the poet's self-induced mortality reached its limit, he felt almost nothing. Almost, almost, because his curiosity was still intact. He heard the voice he once heard in the forest. A song he hadn’t heard since the lyre came into his custody. And his feet moved by themselves, leading him to the encounter, his second encounter, face to face, with the creator of the lyre._

_The poet was alone. None of the humans he held hands with. None of those who smiled with his poetry. None of them were there with him. Mortality came when everyone was busy doing their own stuff. He couldn't help but think that the man lying there was a fool. Why love them so much and give them so much, if in the end none of them were going to be there for him. He took his hand, now warm. And he received a smile, just as warm as the first time they met. So warm, that he realized that perhaps that man was already human before deciding to be one._

_"Why did you create it for me?" It was the only question he could ask him._

_He squeezed his hand tightly, the heat beginning to fade away little by little. "Because I thought it was going to make you happy," he replied, still smiling, and he took a last breath._

Yuta remembers each of his past lives. He remembers the war, the poverty and the misery. He remembers the luxuries. Gold, mansions, and jewelry. He also remembers paying for some sins he committed that led him to reincarnate as a prey in the food chain. He remembers everything. Thousands of years passed and time was running too slow. Thousands of years passed and little by little he began to solve the mystery, but one piece was always missing. Ever since the lifeless hand released his grip, he wanted to know why that man's kindness was never enough to make him happy. Why something that was created for him was never enough to answer his questions. His curiosity increased, but more than anything, something in him also died when he heard that last sigh. He decided to go outside, he wanted to understand what was so good in humans, why someone would want to love them so much. And he became a mortal too. In his countless lives, he finally became human.

He searched for the piece he lacked for centuries. He knew his soul was out there. Breathing into the same world, holding the hand of other humans, dying and coming back to life through the endless chain. But time passed too slowly and life ended too quickly. He gave up.

He was born in Japan and at the age of five, and as in each of his lives (or in their equivalent age), he remembered everything. But his search had been left a few lives behind, when he decided that perhaps his way of filling the emptiness inside of him was living in harmony with the beings he was once jealous of. That was his mission. His family moved to Korea when he was fifteen years old. Throughout time, although he carried out various trades, he was always immersed in human poetry. At first, he was very surprised to see that there was beauty in their words. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't always symmetrical or rhythmic enough, but it was beautiful because it was theirs. A sun that shines from the molecules of the human flesh and that is externalized through incomplete words. He decided that in this life he would read all the works that he needed to read. Knowing that it was impossible. At eighteen he decided to study and work. Work and save; save to fulfill a small dream that came his way: a bookstore. His family helped him a little, the most they could. He loved them. And so, after graduating, he settled in the place that he now owned.

One day, while reading, he heard a noise. Falling books. He felt a little upset, because he had managed to put everything in its place just a day before. He went to look at what had happened, trying to hide his anger, but reddened ears caught his attention. He found a young man, perhaps a few years younger than him, effusively picking up each of the books he threw on the floor and holding them in his arms.

Yuta sighed, "shall I help you?"

The man who had been turning his back on Yuta, turned back to him, “sorry! I'm really sorry, I was going through the titles and I couldn't decide on one, so I started rummaging around and I ended up leaving them all on the floor. Sorry!"

But Yuta really didn't understand anything the man said. Something stirred inside him as soon as he saw the nervous smile of the man in front of him. He didn’t understand his words, but he did lose himself in his harmonious voice. And he also didn't realize at what point he put his hand close to the other's and held it firmly. It was warm. But he removed it immediately when he saw the confused expression on the other's _beautiful_ face.

"Ah!" He exclaimed after taking a few steps back. He began to process the words that the other had said to him, to try to answer him, “no, don't worry! I'll fix it later.” He felt his voice tremble, “what exactly are you looking for? Maybe I can help you!” 

Could it be him? After searching for him for so long and in such an ordinary situation. And if it wasn't him, why did this person make him feel the same things he felt so long ago? There were too many questions running through his mind.

"Oh, well," the man paused, hesitantly, looking at the books that were still in his arms. Yuta noticed this immediately and gestured for him to give them to him. The other nodded. “I was, no, I wasn't looking for any particular title or author. Someone told me that there were some unknown authors in this bookstore, so I wanted to come,” he said while helping Yuta, passing the books one by one. "I'm a musician," he continued, _oh, musician,_ that made a lot of sense. "I mean, no, I'm actually still a music student, but I'm trying to find inspiration."

"What kind of inspiration?"

"I don't know." their hands brushed lightly. Still warm, it made Yuta feel a chill. “Actually, I've been reading a lot. But I feel that something is missing. And I can't find it in any book, nor in music. I am somewhat blocked. And, uhm—” Yuta turned to see him, the abrupt change in the man's tone made him wonder if the other was alright. “I'm sorry, I don't even know you. Maybe I shouldn't talk to you about something so dense,” he giggled. The jumble in Yuta's stomach seemed to flutter even more. “It's just that, for some reason, I felt comfortable. Sorry, I'm weird. ”

Yuta felt warmth run through his body. “You are not weird. Don't worry." He put the last book in its place, "and can I at least know what effect do you want to generate with your music? Maybe we could start from there.”

"Oh, yes," he replied and stroked the side of his nose with his index finger. "I think that I just want to make people happy."

Yuta remembered the time they _met_ while looking and chatting with Jaehyun, who was cooking in front of him, as usual, after coming home. He offered himself to be the official cook when Yuta invited him to live together in his apartment and there was no way to tell him that it wasn’t necessary. But he couldn't complain either, because he enjoyed it anyway. Not only the food, but also observing him. Every move he made, Yuta tried to record in his memory even the smallest gesture. He wanted to remember everything. With time and date. The color of his apron, the direction of his hair. Absolutely every detail.

“And what did you say to him?" Jaehyun asked as he stirred the vegetables in the pan.

"I showed him the ring you gave me," Jaehyun chuckled and that made Yuta smile too, "and he left very quickly. I couldn't even say goodbye and tell him to come back again.”

"Better that way. Don't let him come back.”

"Jealous?"

"Always."

“Don't worry,” Yuta replied, stretching his arms across the table and yawning to try to hide the triumphant smile that was forming on his face, “if I had been interested, I would have been the one to ask for his number. As I did with you.”

Jaehyun's ears turned bright red. "But, you know, I'm not exactly jealous of him," the younger one replied looking nervous, as if he was about to say something embarrassing, "what makes me jealous is that you're too considerate of people." He turned off the kitchen and seated in front of Yuta, looking at him straight in the eye, "you let them get too close to you and that scares me. Sometimes I would like to have you just for me, in a place where no one can reach you and where no one can harm you.”

Those words completely messed Yuta's mind. He didn’t understand why or at what point the conversation had become so serious. But he felt like he was about to receive one of the biggest revelations, out of nowhere, and he didn't know if he was ready for that. Jaehyun had unknowingly finally begun to answer, after thousands of years, one of the many questions that Yuta had been unable to answer on his own.

"But you're like that too, Jae. You always have people around you."

"Yeah, I know. And sorry, I know I sound like a jealous boyfriend, but it's not exactly like that. I know what my limits are, I know how far people can get into me. But you're not like that. I can see it in your face when you look at something that makes you sad, when you cry about a book or a movie. You look very strong, and yes, you are, but you are also really sensitive." He paused, his gaze never ceasing to look directly at Yuta, "and I’m very afraid that someone will hurt you one day and that you would allow it."

Yuta took Jaehyun's hand and intertwined their fingers, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So, is this why you want to take me away from the world?"

“Yes." He felt his hand getting squeezed tightly, “but at the same time, I also want to see you free. I would like to give you everything so that you are always happy.” He stopped, resting his eyes on their intertwined hands and making his dimples appear on his face through an expression of resignation, "It's silly, right?"

"No, it's not silly," Yuta answered immediately and got up from his seat at the small kitchen table. Approaching Jaehyun and not releasing his hand, "it's not silly." Jaehyun didn’t understand that Yuta had been waiting for those words for a very long time. And Yuta felt an urgency. An immediacy. He caressed Jaehyun's cheek with his free hand, "Jaehyun, I know your food is delicious, but I want to eat it later." His heart, too human, was pounding frantically inside his chest. He was feeling too much. Jaehyun looked up at him, looking at him like he was trying to understand the intentions of Yuta, who was quick to resolve his doubts, "right now I just want you to kiss me."

What was beautiful?

It was the pulse of the heart of another human being making contact with his own through the brush of their skins. It was the sweat running down his lover's forehead and the little sighs silenced by his own. Yuta finally understood the beauty of the human body when he was first able to touch Jaehyun's skin. And he wanted that feeling and that idea to be repeated as many times as possible, before time ran out. That way it would remain etched in his memory, until their destinies crossed again. He knew that _beauty_ wasn’t going to be found in any other body. Because it wasn’t only the body, but the soul in front of him manifesting through gentle caresses, deep kisses and a delicate rhythm. So gentle but so hot at the same time. Yuta could feel the room burning, feeling intense heat taking over his body and his heart. He wondered, each time, if Jaehyun felt the same, if it was possible for him to understand the connection that had been dictated between them since the beginning of the universe. He wanted to believe that it was that way. He believed it every time he looked at the sincerity in the other’s eyes. He believed it possible every time Jaehyun created songs that, although he didn't know himself, were dedicated to Yuta, adapting to his ear and taste.

Yuta tangled his fingers in Jaehyun's hair and brought him back to his own face. He liked feeling him close, not missing any reaction. Caress his spasms and catch his little moans with his lips, until Jaehyun had no more left and finally rested his head on Yuta’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

Once he asked himself why fate had been so cruel to him. Why mortal life had kept him waiting for centuries for someone who couldn't even remember him. Why him and not Jaehyun. Perhaps he hadn't been loved enough that the other wanted to reunite with him. That idea went through his head many times and it hurt. But after Jaehyun's words it all made sense. It wasn’t that he hadn't been loved, but that he had been loved too much. He was so loved that the other couldn’t bear it. Excluding himself from the things he loved to deliver them to him. Throwing himself into the abyss, alone, thinking that the one he left behind would forget him. But the oblivion was momentary, because the things he gave him weren’t enough to cover the emptiness that occurred when he stopped being by his side. Ever since he heard the voice in the forest, he must have understood that the answer wasn’t in the lyre or in the words, but in the creative soul of those precious objects. Yuta by himself was never able to understand it, but he, now called Jaehyun, did know. He always knew this and deprived himself of his complement only to make him happy. But he didn't understand that his happiness was always by his side.

His own breathing had normalized. Jaehyun began to fill his face with little kisses as Yuta continued to stroke the hair between his fingers. "Jaehyun..."

Jaehyun immediately stopped kissing him and looked at him. He always did that, putting his full attention on whatever Yuta wanted to say, "yes?"

“If one day, one of us ceases to exist, or, if you forget me, for whatever reason,” Jaehyun's expression quickly changed, he looked conflicted and confused. Yuta knew it was silly to ask what he wanted to ask, so much more in that kind of situation. And also, he already knew the answer he was going to receive. Because Jaehyun, as much as he wanted, won't remember him. But he still wanted to hear it, like a placebo, "will you still love me as much as you do now?"

Jaehyun stopped looking at him and lowered his head, hiding on Yuta's shoulder and sighing heavily, "why are you asking me this like there's going to be a tragedy soon?"

Yuta began to feel guilty, "sorry." He didn’t want to carry his insecurities on the other. But at the same time, he felt overwhelmed by everything he was feeling at that moment.

"No, it’s okay. It happens sometimes. I also put myself on imaginary scenarios, so it's fine.” With his hand, Jaehyun grabbed Yuta's face and pulled him closer, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invalidate you, please continue to share these things with me." He placed a small kiss on his nose, "and about your question, of course yes. I'm sure that it doesn't matter what happens, I'll still love you. I don't quite understand why, I mean, I never told you, did I?” He began to laugh nervously and Yuta stared at him, expectantly, “but the first time I saw you I felt something inside me, something strange. I knew that what I was looking for wasn’t a book, but you." He paused, looking embarrassed by his own words, "I'm so cringy, I'm sorry." He began to gently caress Yuta's cheekbones with his thumb, "but, well, that's what I felt. And I almost left your bookstore without doing anything about it. So I appreciate you stopping me and asking for my number."

For whatever reason, Jaehyun was being too sincere that day. Yuta wasn’t sure why, but he just could smile and hugged him tightly, "thanks for telling me these things."

Jaehyun feels it too, Yuta thought. Even if he doesn't remember as much as he do, his soul remembers. He felt happy.

"You're welcome?" Jaehyun continued staring at Yuta, "but are you okay? Why did you think about it? It worries me."

Yuta let out a soft sigh, "for nothing, nothing in particular. It's like you said, sometimes I put myself on scenarios too. This time it just happened now and I don't know, I couldn't not get it out.” He released Jaehyun's head and started to sit up, adjusting his back on the back of the bed. "But, anyway," he began to change the subject. Yuta didn't want to extend the situation and make the things heavier than they already were, "I think it wouldn’t hurt to eat something now, you know?" He said, with a suggestive tone.

Jaehyun giggled, he seemed to foget about what they were talking. Or maybe he just understood that Yuta didn't want to talk about it anymore. Probably the last option. "You're so lazy," he said while sitting up as well. "What you really want is for me to bring the dinner here, right?"

"Exactly, yes."

"Fine, I'll bring it right away!" Jaehyun feigned a disapproving sigh. "But be grateful that I love you."

Before getting up, Jaehyun gave him a short kiss on the forehead and dressed in the first thing he found. Yuta saw his figure disappearing in a hurry behind their bedroom door and he immediately missed him. He really didn't want to think about the future, about the time that would come after not being with him. And at the same time, he didn't want to think about the past either, because that was cruel, to himself and to Jaehyun. But even if he didn't want it, he couldn't help it. 

Yuta imagined how much Jaehyun must have suffered before he died the first time. Also suffering from the absence of the other. He suffered enough for fate to decide that he didn't deserve to keep those memories in his next lives. Instead, Yuta, as a sentence, had to remember everything, life after life. And now, after having found him, after having obtained all his answers; now, he was willing to keep searching for Jaehyun for thousands of years more. Searching, waiting, finding, losing and searching again. Accepting the condemnation of memory as his most precious gift. As the element that would allow him to reach his lover's soul again, in the future. Because it didn't matter if Jaehyun, or whatever his name was in his next life, didn't remember him. The two were going to meet again and continue to love each other as much as they did now. Yuta finally understood what was the meaning of that undisturbed and lasting feeling. Of their love that, no matter how cruel the passage of time was, it never faded away. That feeling, he understood. That was _beautiful._

**Author's Note:**

> I based this on "Apollon, Hermès, la poésie", by Citati. If anyone interested, is very short. Just based though :)
> 
> Twitter: @yujaephobic


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